


Exactly the Same

by Once_More_With_Feeling



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Friendship, Lost Love, M/M, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 10:07:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9716975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Once_More_With_Feeling/pseuds/Once_More_With_Feeling
Summary: Twelve years after Jimmy leaves Downton, he and Thomas see each other again for the first time.





	

**1936**

 

He would have been lying if he said he hadn’t thought of Jimmy every day. He had thought of him every day when they worked together, and he thought of him every day now that they were apart.

 

It had become such a part of his routine that after a few years he had started talking to Jimmy in his head. Pretending he was there, while he worked, while he read at night, while he smoked in the courtyard. He told Jimmy what he thought about things, and Jimmy shared his thoughts in return. They laughed together. They were friends. In Thomas’ mind.

 

And he also would have been lying if he said it hadn’t occurred to him every time he went out that it was possible that Jimmy could come around any corner. That he carried with him the tiniest glimmer of hope that someday, he would.

 

But there was no need to lie about how often he thought of Jimmy, because he so rarely mentioned him. Oh, he had brought him up casually to Phyllis a time or two, even teared up once when she had asked him to tell her the story of the best day he had ever had. He hadn’t been able to stop himself from telling her about the walk he and Jimmy had taken together down the seashore, the day the servants had been allowed a day out after Lady Rose’s presentation at court. He suspected Phyllis knew very well that he still loved Jimmy much more than he let on, but if she did, she didn’t say anything. Phyllis was kind that way; keeping his secrets safe for him.

 

They had written a few times after Jimmy left, short missives about what they were doing and how boring work could be. The letters had stopped after about a year, and Thomas had never been able to find a way to explain to Jimmy what had happened in the late spring of 1925. They weren’t close friends by then, anyway. It would have been impertinent to burden Jimmy with that. It had been twelve years since they had seen each other, and by now Thomas considered it a kindness, sparing Jimmy from the darkest moment of his own life.

 

Each time he went out, though, whatever trivial errand it might be, he found himself thinking that Jimmy could be there. Hoping he would be. If he just kept going about his life, and Jimmy his—provided Jimmy hadn’t moved to America or somewhere, or God forbid, died—it was possible that one day they would accidentally run into each other.

 

And on a sunny afternoon in October, at a little café in Ripon, they did.

 

***

 

It was a Tuesday, and his half day. He had gone into Ripon to a favorite book shop of his, to buy a copy of John Dickson Carr’s new murder mystery. He had been so excited to begin reading it that he had ducked into a nearby café and bought a cup of tea. He had just planned to read a chapter or two before heading home, but soon found his teacup empty, and his mind engrossed in the thick plot line. He happened to glance up, and look out the window. And there he was.

 

Jimmy Kent crossed the street outside, and entered the café. He ordered a drink and sat alone at a table near the front. Thomas himself had sat at the back of the room, and took a moment to steady himself, at first convinced that this could not be real. But it was real. He and Jimmy were in the same café, on the same day at the same time.

 

He stood from his chair, and left his book and his tea cup on his table. He walked to the front of the café, and stood feet from where Jimmy was sitting, looking at a magazine.

 

“Jimmy,” he said.

 

“Yeah,” Jimmy answered, without looking up or turning around, as though he were used to being addressed by his familiar nickname in arbitrary cafes in Ripon. Then he turned around. “Yeah,” he said again, for some reason, though this time it came out as a whisper. “Thomas,” he said.

 

Thomas nodded, and Jimmy stood. They both smiled, and extended their hands. The handshake they shared was firm, and incredibly familiar. “Would… you like to come sit with me?” Thomas asked. What did he have to lose? “I’ve left my tea and my book…” he gestured mildly to his place at the back of the café.

 

“Sure, sure,” Jimmy said. He followed Thomas and they returned to the table at the back. Thomas found another chair and drew it up to his table. He felt oddly like he was caught unaware at being the host; he moved his book and his cup as if to tidy the place, and then sat down when Jimmy did.

 

Thomas knew he should have started with something along the lines of “How are you?” but within seconds he—and Jimmy, too, it seemed—had returned effortlessly to the familiarity they had once shared as friends. So instead he opened with, “God, you look exactly the same.”

 

“Psh,” Jimmy said, waving his hand. He pointed at the hair on his temple. “Grey!” he said.

 

“Right,” Thomas answered. “When you walked in here, I thought to myself, now there’s a man looks just like Jimmy Kent, only it can’t be him, because he’s got four grey hairs.”

 

Jimmy laughed, and Thomas laughed, too. He remembered more acutely somehow the fun they used to have together.

 

“It’s so funny to see you now, Thomas. After all these years. Do you live in Ripon?” Jimmy asked.

 

“No, I’m… butler at Downton now.”

 

“Butler?” Jimmy exclaimed. “You’ve done well for yourself.” He smiled, and shook his head slightly. “That’s quite impressive, Thomas.”

 

Thomas felt himself blush. He looked down modestly before asking, “Do you live in Ripon, then?”

 

“No, I live in Thirsk.”

 

They looked at each other for a moment. Downton and Thirsk. They were so close.

 

_And it took twelve years for this to happen?_

 

Before Thomas could allow his mind to run away with thoughts of resuming their effortless friendship, he needed to say something. He looked at Jimmy’s hands, resting on the top of the small table. A band of silver encircled Jimmy’s left fourth finger.

 

“You’re married,” Thomas said softly, resisting the urge to reach out and touch the silver ring.

 

“I am,” Jimmy answered, his turn to blush now. Thomas allowed himself a second to watch Jimmy’s cheeks, as the color rose there, and wondered if it was because Jimmy remembered Thomas’ feelings for him, or if mere mention of his wife made Jimmy flush with happiness. Thomas was pleased to realize that he truly hoped it was the latter.

 

“Rosie,” Jimmy said. “Well, Rose, but I call her Rosie.”

 

“Just like Lady Rose,” Thomas said, and nearly winked, remembering the small crush Jimmy had had on the young woman they had served all those years ago.

 

“She’s my lady Rose,” Jimmy answered without flinching.

 

So it was love, then. Thomas had become so accustomed to his heart being broken by Jimmy Kent that he merely smiled.

 

_Whatever you want is what I want for you._

 

“How long?” he asked.

 

“Eleven years,” Jimmy answered, somewhat shyly.

 

When the letters had stopped. Thomas nodded, thankful again that he had never written to Jimmy his sad story, just when Jimmy had found happiness.

 

“Congratulations,” he said. “That’s wonderful. Kids?”

 

“No,” Jimmy answered, trying to appear casual. “We’re trying, but…” he seemed to change his mind about what he wanted to say. He laughed lightly. “I have to wonder what kind of a father I’d make. I do wonder if I shouldn’t just stick with dogs…” Jimmy looked away.

 

“You’ll be great, Jimmy,” Thomas said softly. “You’ll be just great.”

 

Jimmy looked back at him. “You think so?” he asked.

 

Thomas nodded again, and Jimmy smiled. Normally this would have been when Jimmy would have shaken his head, and looked away, or changed the subject—made some joke. But he didn’t. He sat there and gazed at Thomas, a wistful smile on his lips.

 

Thomas let him look for a moment, then couldn’t stop himself. “What?” he asked softly.

 

Now Jimmy did shake his head, but he didn’t look away. “Nothing,” he whispered. “Just looking at you.”

 

Thomas continued to let him look, and smiled, because he knew.

 

***

 

They exchanged telephone numbers, and laughed and smiled together for a few more minutes, before Jimmy stood to leave. Thomas stood also, and shook his hand one more time.

 

“It’s been so good to see you, Jimmy,” he said.

 

“And you as well, Thomas,” Jimmy answered. “I’m going to ring you,” he said as he backed away. “We’ll have a pint.”

 

“That’d be lovely,” Thomas said as he watched him leave. “Please do call.”

 

“Oh, I will,” Jimmy said, and he winked, just before he turned and walked away.

 

Thomas watched him until he couldn’t see him any more, lost once again in the crowd outside.

 

It was unlikely he would call. Thomas knew that. That was Jimmy. And though he had his number as well, Thomas was fairly certain that he wouldn’t call Jimmy either. He was finished with asking Jimmy for things.

 

But as Thomas lowered himself back into his chair, and stared idly at his book, he found that he couldn’t stop smiling. He even laughed to himself, though he sat alone.

 

Though it was quite possible he would never see Jimmy again, or that it would be another twelve years—or more—before chance allowed it again, Thomas found himself feeling anything but lonely. And it wasn’t just because he had finally seen him again, and had the pleasure of twenty minutes of his company. It was the way Jimmy had looked at him. It was just the same as he had all those years before.

 

Jimmy still loved him.

 

Whatever happened now didn’t matter. Whether they became friends or never saw each other again, Thomas had an answer to what he had wondered for years, since Jimmy had left Downton, and left their friendship. They had both had their reasons for ceasing contact, but he was sure now that Jimmy’s fondness for him had never faded—just as Thomas had never wavered in his affection for Jimmy, during all these years of silence.

 

Thomas looked down at his book again, and thought it odd that not half an hour ago it had been the most engrossing thing in his life. He laughed to himself. It would be difficult to finish reading it now. He considered just leaving it behind in the café, for someone else to pick up and read, but then thought better of it.

 

He opened the cover, and pulled a pen from his pocket and wrote on the front flyleaf:

 

_11 October, 1936_

_Jimmy loves Thomas_

 

He stood to leave and carried the book with him, holding it to his chest as he began his journey home.


End file.
